


who is right, who is left

by dorky (dorcas_gustine)



Category: Avengers (Comic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcas_gustine/pseuds/dorky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>War does not decide who is right, war decides who is left.<br/>-- Bertrand Russel</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	who is right, who is left

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/profile)[**cliche_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/) , for the prompt: ghosts/hauntings.
> 
> Betaed by [](http://valtyr.livejournal.com/profile)[**valtyr**](http://valtyr.livejournal.com/)

Everything had been left in ruins. To remember the dead.

Steve wondered if that had been a wise decision after all. Restoring and rebuilding would have honored their memories much better, he thought. But if there was anything he'd learned from the War and from everything he'd seen it was that the living were the ones who needed the memories, the constant reminder that there had been something, _someone_ who wasn't there anymore.

The living were afraid of forgetting, of being forgotten, most of all. The dead are just that; dead.

Places had a meaning, or rather, people poured all sorts of meanings into places. Steve considered himself no different on that point, at least when it came to this place.

The Avengers Mansion lay gutted all around him, like the skeleton of some huge creature, the flesh long gone to leave only scattered bones.

The fate of the Avengers had seemed to be tied to this place, as well. Cracks in the walls and in the team; and as much as they had tried to grow whole again, in the end they'd been torn apart once again, even worse than before. Irreparably so.

The silence was absolute as Steve walked down what used to be the main hall, the sound of his footsteps seemed to be swallowed by what was left of the walls. Irreparable, yes.

They had tried, of course, within these very walls. Steve remembered the tense atmosphere, as if every stone and brick around the two of them had been waiting with bated breath.

Tony wouldn't seen reason, though, and all through his speech in defense of the SHRA Steve had barely been able to keep the punch that had wanted to to break free of the cage of his tightly clenched fist. Tony had cried, he recalled.

And then, finally, the punch had broken free, followed by another. And another.

Steve had the suspicion that he'd gone wrong somewhere along the way, that they both had. But Tony had been- Tony-

Tony was here.

It took Steve a few moments to register the armor-clad figure in the middle of the room, but Tony was standing so still he might as well have been a statue. The red and gold of the Iron Man suit weren't bright as usual, though, almost grey in the pale moonlight, and Steve could have sworn he could see _through_ him.

"Tony," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Not that the volume of his words would have mattered, anyway.

Steve's hand was already reaching forward, seemingly of its own volition, but he stopped right in time; before it could reach the metal shoulder-pad. His hand would have gone through, he knew, and Steve wasn't quite sure he could bear the sight right now.

The first time he'd tried it, he'd been so taken aback that he hadn't noticed his arm had already sunk into Tony's chest up to the elbow. He'd cried out when he'd snatched the arm back. Tony hadn't seemed to notice, though. He couldn't have.

The sight had reminded Steve of the Vision's hand sticking out of Tony's chest, just before that last fight. Tony's scream was still ringing in his ears.

If Tony hadn't had Extremis, if he'd still had his own damaged heart, he would have probably died. It gave Steve pause, as he couldn't decide whether he would have done things differently if that had been the case.

Even the fact that he was wondering about it told Steve all he needed to know about the lengths this... _Civil War_ had pushed them to. For all Tony called himself a futurist, Steve was sure he hadn't seen this coming at all.

When Steve had been towering over him, shield poised to strike, he'd seen something in Tony's only visible eye as it peered through the fractured Iron Man helmet. Tony had been looking at him in resignation, but there was something beyond that, some sort of... _peace_.

But Tony couldn't have known-- Or maybe Steve had been the deluded one and Tony really had known.

No matter who had been the one walking away from it, there had been no winners.

Steve wasn't one, and Tony was-

Tony was slowly, silently fading from his sight.

Steve watched, followed him as he walked away, leaving behind an impression of red until he had completely disappeared from sight.

Tony's name died on Steve's lips with the last, fleeting glimpse of his back, framed in the lopsided entrance of the Avengers Mansion.

"Wish you'd talked now, don't you?" he asked to the dead ruins around him, but he wasn't quite sure for whom he'd intended the question.

During the War, Steve had met an old man who's lost his nephews to the War, and his son to the Resistance. Steve had told him that he shouldn't have given up hope, that the war had been almost over, that they were going to win. Empty words for one who had lost so much, but Steve had needed to hear them more than say them at the time.

The old man had blinked up at him, 'wars are only over for those who have died', he'd told Steve, 'the living are left with everything, and nothing.'

Steve used to believe him.

Around him the Avengers Mansion started fading from his sight as well, the night poured in from outside, and Steve looked around himself to see where he'd be going next.

He noticed the candles first, and then the hunched figure in front of him.

Even kneeling, Thor was still an impressive sight.

"Hello, old friend," Steve said, quietly. "It's been a while."


End file.
